


Just You And Me (Until We're Gray And Old)

by space_in_between



Category: NINE PERCENT (Band)
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, M/M, Married Life, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, well maybe not to that extent but the amount of fluff i put here is slightly more than usual(?)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-28
Updated: 2018-07-28
Packaged: 2019-06-17 16:32:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,447
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15465516
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/space_in_between/pseuds/space_in_between
Summary: It always warms Zhangjing’s heart with how much care and affection Yanjun gives him everyday from the start of their relationship to this very day, almost a thousand days after their marriage.





	Just You And Me (Until We're Gray And Old)

**Author's Note:**

> aka: domestic!zhangjun we all deserve. thank me later.
> 
> title from james arthur's say you won't let go aka the song i listen on repeat until this ball of fluff is born.

When Zhangjing enters his apartment, it’s already past midnight and Zhangjing’s legs nearly give up from fatigue. Working as a doctor is never easy, and Zhangjing has his schedule jam-packed with surgeries from the beginning of this week to next weekend. It’s already a given that he can _finally_ go home—he runs out of clean clothes and he doesn’t have surgery until nine today.

Zhangjing misses home, and he misses his husband. Yanjun has been spending lonely nights for three days in a row because Zhangjing can’t leave the hospital, and even though Yanjun doesn’t complain, Zhangjing feels it’s unfair for him. He knows Yanjun won’t complain about anything work-related, but it only makes Zhangjing feel even guilty because he’s always the busier one between them.

The living room is still bright when Zhangjing kicks his shoes off and from the room partition he catches a glimpse of black hair that belongs to no one but his husband. Zhangjing smiles faintly, Yanjun always waits for him when he tells him he’ll be home that day. Even when sometimes Zhangjing doesn’t come home at the end because his work suddenly calls him.

Zhangjing walks to the living room to see his husband is sitting on the couch, back facing him and reading a book. He probably doesn’t hear when Zhangjing opens the door.

“I’m home,” Zhangjing says quietly, hugging Yanjun from behind and breathes the musky scent of Yanjun that he’s missed so much. It must’ve been a while since Yanjun took a shower because his hair is all dry now, and he’s wearing his sleeping uniform—loose gray T-shirt and shorts.

“Welcome home,” Yanjun puts his book down and turns his head so he can kiss Zhangjing’s lips, and Zhangjing gives in to the kiss almost instantly. They share a long chaste and tender kiss until Yanjun breaks it first because his muscle is strained for staying in that position for too long.

“I didn’t hear you come in.” Yanjun says, tugging on Zhangjing’s sleeve. Zhangjing detours around the couch to sit beside Yanjun, letting his husband pull him close and nuzzle on the back of his neck. It’s Yanjun’s way to tell him that he misses Zhangjing as well—two years of dating and three years of marriage helps Zhangjing read his husband’s behaviour easily.

(It’s not really _that_ easy because Yanjun is so unpredictable most of the time. Not even two years of dating and three years of marriage helps Zhangjing get used to this side of him.)

“I’m not surprised, you don’t seem to notice your surrounding when you’re reading.”

Yanjun laughs on Zhangjing’s skin. “Are you jealous of my books?”

Zhangjing pulls away from Yanjun’s embrace to shoot him a look. “Seriously, dude. Do you think I’d marry you if I didn’t expect something like this to happen sooner or later?”

Yanjun laughs and smooches Zhangjing’s cheek loudly. “Go take a bath, I’ll prepare dinner.”

Zhangjing raises an eyebrow at Yanjun, “You haven’t eaten dinner? Lin Yanjun, it’s almost one in the morning!”

“I know, it’s almost one in the morning and my husband hasn’t eaten any proper meal for days and he’s gonna have one with me today, period.”

Zhangjing smiles and shakes his head but he complies when Yanjun gently pushes him to the bathroom after handing him his towel.

“Wash up properly if you don’t want me to do it for you.”

“Will you do it for me?”

“Sure, but if that’s the case I’m doing it after a little physical activity that will make you sweat and sticky with—”

Zhangjing throws his towel to Yanjun’s face before he finishes talking, face flushed infuriatingly.

“Just go and make the damn dinner, Lin Yanjun!”

Yanjun grins, giving Zhangjing his towel back. “Dinner is on the way, my love.”

 

-

 

Zhangjing smells something delicious when he leaves the bathroom and he walks straight to the kitchen. Yanjun is flipping something on the frypan while humming to his favourite song. Zhangjing shifts his glance to the dining table to see two plates are set on it, two empty wine glasses, and an unopened wine bottle that is probably Yanjun’s personal hidden collection since Zhangjing doesn’t have the memory of them buying it. His husband isn’t that much of a fancy drinker, he usually brings out his expensive liquor only when they’re having a celebration of an important day.

Is today one of them? Zhangjing can’t remember. Come to think of it, Zhangjing barely remembers their important days apart of Yanjun’s birthday, he swears to god—it’s always Yanjun who marks the date on the calendar hanging beside the fridge. His own birthday, their anniversary, the days Yanjun wants to take him out for dinner, his last day of residency (Yanjun insists it’s _very_ important, and Zhangjing doesn’t have any reason to object), the day Yanjun’s book is released, the day when his published work becomes a movie, or sometimes Yanjun just writes something like “the day where I love Zhangjing the most this week”.

It always warms Zhangjing’s heart with how much care and affection Yanjun gives him everyday from the start of their relationship to this very day, almost a thousand days after their marriage. Yanjun makes Zhangjing feel like they only got married for a week with how many times he surprises Zhangjing, usually with simple, sometimes weird things that melt his heart.

Zhangjing puts his arms around Yanjun’s waist, closing his eyes with cheek resting on Yanjun’s broad back. Yanjun pauses his humming and taps Zhangjing’s hand to greet him, and continues singing quietly.

“I can’t believe you’re finally cooking for us and it takes me three years of being your husband to witness this scene,” Zhangjing says.

Yanjun’s back vibrates slightly when he chuckles. “Sorry to disappoint you, then. I’m only heating up whatever dish your mom brought on her last visit, and I’ll never get tired of telling you not to expect me anything when it comes to cooking. Don’t you know one of the reasons why I married you is because I want _you_ to cook for me for the rest of my life?”

“You’re so annoying,” Zhangjing gives his husband a loud slap on the back, and Yanjun laughs. “The kitchen is so quiet. Can I turn on some music?”

Yanjun nods in agreement. “Sure.”

Zhangjing pulls away from Yanjun and walks to a corner of their kitchen where Yanjun had put a radio on top of the marble counter for when either or both of them want to randomly listen to some music in the kitchen or when they’re eating, and it’s weirdly amusing that they actually do. Both of them had always loved music; it was one of a few things they had in common that brought them together in college.

Zhangjing spends one whole minute choosing the suitable music for the mood and a second later, slow classical music starts enveloping the small space in the kitchen. Zhangjing laughs when Yanjun turns his head, pointing at him with a spatula, brows knitting.

“What are we? 80s middle aged couple in their rocking chairs?”

“Aren’t you planning a romantic dinner? This music suits your plan just fine!”

Yanjun doesn’t say anything afterwards, taking Zhangjing’s words into consideration. He then turns back to the stove as Zhangjing cheers victoriously.

Zhangjing walks to the middle of the room, spinning around with one leg to pull off some ballet moves and breaking into a fit of giggles when he fails miserably as he loses his balance in three seconds. He tries again, and he bumps into something warm yet firm when he fails for the second time.

Yanjun is holding him by the waist so Zhangjing won’t stumble with his amateur spin. Zhangjing grins at him.

Yanjun grins back, “Shall we dance?” he asks, offering Zhangjing an upturned palm.

“What are we? 80s middle aged couple in their ballroom dance class?” Zhangjing asks sarcastically, making Yanjun laugh.

“Well, there’s no harm in preparing for our older days together, right?”

Zhangjing smiles and takes Yanjun’s hand.

“Oh, you’re right.”

 

-

 

Yanjun and Zhangjing are both… terrible dancers. Well, terrible is an overstatement, but both Zhangjing and Yanjun don’t think they’re decent enough to be called dancers or even to call themselves people who like to dance, and Zhangjing has this thought that maybe their mutual agreement over this is one of the reasons why he and Yanjun could stay together for years.

But somehow, Zhangjing finds himself in this situation—arms around Yanjun’s neck and Yanjun’s arms on his waist as they slow dance to the music in the kitchen, staring to each other and snorting laughter when they realise how gross and sappy they are. But neither of them pulling away, enjoying each other’s presence in this close proximity.

When Zhangjing said he missed Yanjun, this is exactly what he meant. Being with him, just him, supporting each other when they’re doing nonsense or something completely out of their characters. Zhangjing doesn’t care it’s already two in the morning in a weekday, it’s scary how easy he throws away all responsibilities he has when his heart takes over his whole body.

“Are we celebrating something today?” Zhangjing breaks the silent first when the wine bottle comes into his sight again. “It’s unusual to have wine after dinner, unless you have planned something beforehand.”

“It’s the “one particular day where I miss my husband the most” day of the month, and you’ve been so busy with your work these days so I think about giving you a break at least until you need to get back to work again.”

Zhangjing lifts up a hand to caress Yanjun’s cheekbone, smiling. “I’m sorry I can’t be a proper husband to you. I know you’re doing all the chores when I’m away, and we’re supposed to split them in half.”

Yanjun shakes his head, “It’s not a big deal.” He looks straight at Zhangjing’s eyes, chasing all Zhangjing’s guilts away. “I have the time, so I’m doing it. I’m sure you’ll do the same if you’re home and I’m not, right? Don’t blame yourself just because you make me do the laundry and put out the trash. We live here together, it’s part of my duty to keep this place as comfortable as possible for us.”

Zhangjing laughs softly. “I must’ve done something so heroic in my past life to deserve you as a husband in this lifetime.”

“I thought the same too,” Yanjun’s cheeks dimple when he smiles. “Remember when we decided to get married three years ago, when you just started your residency and people said we could never make it far?”

Zhangjing nods. He will never forget that. “I do. People were doubting us because both of us led a very different life and had busy jobs; my job as a doctor and your job as a writer and lecturer. We didn’t have exact working time and our schedules overlapped each other.”

“People thought it was impossible to see us as a married couple if we couldn’t see each other regularly like other couples did. They thought our marriage was going to be a cold one, we’re busy within our own worlds, and marriage was just about status and to make it easier for us to get a house,” Yanjun continues.

“It was one of our hardest days,” Zhangjing concludes. “But what’s your point?”

“I’m glad I didn’t listen to them.”

Zhangjing smiles so wide he’s going to break his jaw, standing on tiptoe to give Yanjun a kiss on the corner of his mouth. “Yeah, I’m glad you didn’t. Thank you for believing in us, and look where we are now.”

Yanjun fixes a gaze on Zhangjing, his eyes are fond and Zhangjing can only see love and admiration radiating from his dark orbs. All Yanjun sees is Zhangjing and he always makes sure, he _wants_ to make sure Zhangjing knows that.

Zhangjing knows, he always has.

“You’re the best thing ever happened in my life, Zhangjing. I’ve said that so many times, and I will keep saying it until you’re bored of it. I will keep saying it even until we’re two old but cool dudes celebrating our sixty-fifth wedding anniversary.”

The thought of two old geezers holding hands in front of a cake and blowing a 6 and 5 candle together amuses Zhangjing. Yanjun is so weird, but Zhangjing is completely, utterly, unquestionably sure he has married the right person.

“On our sixty-fifth wedding anniversary, let me choose the cake for us.”

“Ha. I don’t think I can trust your taste, but okay. Whatever makes my husband happy.”

 

-

 

“Hey,” Zhangjing says after a long moment of silent, “don’t you think something smells weird in here?”

“Yeah,” Yanjun scrunches his nose. “It smells like something is burning.”

Zhangjing peeks over Yanjun’s shoulder and squeals when he sees black smoke soar from the frypan. “Lin Yanjun! The stove!”

Yanjun whirls around and his expression turns horrified.

 

-

 

Zhangjing manages to do last minute rescue so the dish is still edible, although it’s 85% burnt. Zhangjing and Yanjun exchange glances before stuffing it to their mouths, laughing in a mouthful of hot rice and burnt food at two in the morning.

“Let’s have breakfast outside,” Yanjun says after having a hard time swallowing, “the smell won’t go away until noon, I think. And we have to explain to our neighbours before they start thinking we’re trying to burn this place down.”

“Mm, let’s do that.” Zhangjing pauses and starts laughing so hard he almost topples down the chair. Yanjun stares at him bemusedly, but the corners of his lips are tugging upward in a small smile.

“Why are you laughing like that?”

“This is funny,” Zhangjing says, wiping a tear after laughing so much. “I’ve been trapped inside the operating room for days it’s already hard for me to tell when the sun has risen or set, let alone to laugh like this. It’s funnier because we’re laughing at ourselves, and how we serve better comedy as a couple than anyone out there.”

Yanjun sighs and makes a tired face as he reaches out to squeeze his husband’s hand gently. “I know right. Being a powerful married couple is so exhausting.”

Zhangjing chuckles, squeezing his hand back. “Be strong, this is only our third year. We still have sixty more years until our sixty-fifth anniversary and still counting.”

“Sixty more years and counting,” Yanjun repeats. “So, a lifetime worth of comedy and me as your husband. Isn’t that great?”

Zhangjing can’t help but laugh at that. “Of course, the greatest of great!”

 

Zhangjing is glad he comes home to Yanjun.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> talk (not) dirty to me on [twitter](http://twitter.com/minseoqt)!! we can ,, uh , talk about fluffy warm and fuzzy ideas about otp(s) or simply about weather or even my sister's shoe size idc


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